Oops!
by Ferdinand J Smith
Summary: An oldie requested by ChristineS. One-shot. Stephanie blows up another one of Ranger's cars. Must be a day that ends in Y.


**"Oops!"**

I was just going for a doughnut. That's it, I swear.

Then I saw Dizzy Johnson coming out of Fa$t Ca$h on Lincoln Avenue, and I forgot about all about the doughnuts. Dizzy Johnson was one of Ranger's skips, wanted on two counts of sexual assault, armed robbery, and list of other things I couldn't even remember. He was a bad guy, with an equally bad habit of disappearing. And in my experience, bad guys didn't usually need money to stay in town. They needed money to _get out_ of town.

So I did what I thought was best. I followed him, staying two car-lengths behind so he wouldn't suspect anything. Big mistake. I guess it's pretty hard not to notice when a six-figure Mercedes is tailing you.

In hindsight, this is the part where I should have called Ranger. _Hey,_ I would have said to him, _I found your skip. He's in front of a check advance place on Lincoln. Come pick him up._

Then Ranger would have said something like _Babe_ , and I would have gone back to my doughnut run.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty. Of course I know _now_ that following Johnson was a bad idea.

Just like I know that Ranger's going to kill me.

He parked behind a blue-and-white, got out of his black RangeMan SUV, and walked over to where I was standing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just dirty is all."

 _Dirty_ didn't cover it. I was covered head-to-toe in some putrid-smelling sludge where Johnson had knocked me to the ground before speeding away.

Ranger dipped his head a fraction of an inch and turned to look at the charred remains of his skip . . . and his car. His brow furrowed and the lines of his mouth turned down slightly, and I think he might've stifled a gulp. If there's one thing Ranger cares about, it's his daughter. I like to think I'm next on the list, along with a few friends and family members. His Mercedes comes in a close third.

"Do I want to know how this happened?" Ranger asked, his eyes still on the smoldering chunk of black metal.

"Nope."

Ranger quirked an eyebrow in my direction, and I blew out a sigh.

"I was going for doughnuts," I explained. "You said I could take your car."

"If I'd known you were going to blow it up, I would've reconsidered," Ranger said. "Go on."

I told Ranger about how I had seen Johnson come out of a building on Lincoln.

"I was trying to follow him, but he must've seen me in his rearview."

Ranger shook his head. "Doesn't explain why he was driving my car."

I pursed my lips together and made a face. "He stole it."

"Stole it?"

"We stopped at a red light a couple blocks over. Johnson got out of his car, walked over the Mercedes, and told me to get out."

"And?"

"I got out."

Ranger smiled. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile. He put a hand at the base of my spine and we crossed the street to check out the twisted shell of metal and fiberglass. At sixty miles an hour, the loudest noise inside Ranger's Mercedes had come from the electric clock. Now it was hissing and popping and making all sorts of horrible sounds. There was a loud _SNAP!_ and the passenger's side door fell off.

Carl Costanza and a couple uniformed officers were standing next to the fire truck, taking in the display. His mouth curved up a little when he saw me . . . and then back down when he saw Ranger.

"What happened?" Ranger asked.

"Don't know for sure how the fire started, but it looks like he lost control and slammed into the old meat packing plant." Carl nodded to a dilapidated brick building. "He must've been going pretty fast."

"Zero to sixty in three seconds," Ranger said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "Anyone hurt?"

Carl shook his head, no. "Just the driver." We all took a moment to survey the wreckage. "Hope you had insurance."

Ranger threw Carl a look, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry about your car," I said to Ranger on the way back to the SUV. "I'd offer to get you a new one, but I don't think they have a sixty-year plan."

Ranger pulled me to him, wiped some of the mud away from my forehead, and kissed me there. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I can replace the car."

Ranger held the passenger's side door open and I climbed in. He shut the door, went around the front of the SUV, and stopped to pick something up.

"Hold this," he said, passing it to me. It was a piece of the silver trunk star from his Mercedes.

I bit my lip and looked at Ranger. He cranked the engine and shifted into gear. "Souvenir?" I asked him.

Ranger sighed. "Something like that."


End file.
